


a little sympathy

by articheart



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, it just took me too long to finish this, its not that graphic but still, jaemin is going through some stuff, mark just wants to help, mentions of abuse, not for fictober, rated mature for violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-07-24 19:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/articheart/pseuds/articheart
Summary: They aren’t friends. Not really.Just two boys who have sparring sessions every now and then, and stargaze together even more often.





	a little sympathy

**Author's Note:**

> hi! 
> 
> i was supposed to post this last week but it didn’t work out. then, i was planning to post this two days ago, which also didn’t work, but hey! it’s here now!!
> 
> so yeah, this is the first proper work I’ve ever shared in here and im really excited about it.
> 
> as you read this, i hope you like it as much as i do —
> 
> (this is unbetaed)

Jaemin isn’t a bad guy.

_Jaemin isn’t a bad guy_ , is what Mark thinks, even when the second punch lands right on the bridge of his nose. 

Mark hisses sharply and tilts his head back. Then, he feels his nose with his fingertips to check if it’s broken. Fortunately, It’s not. Hurts like a bitch, but everything’s still where it’s supposed to be. 

“Damn. Two hits today,” croaks Mark “You feeling better now?” 

A lonely drop of blood makes its way down Mark’s chin and onto the collar of his shirt. He uses his hand to wipe it off before his clothes can get any dirtier, smearing it all the way to his cheek.

Jaemin snickers and blows at his bruised knuckles. “Yeah, sorry. Couldn’t help myself,”

Mark’s face is throbbing now. He just hopes it doesn’t bruise like last time. His mom is getting worried.

A sudden breeze dishevels both of their hairs.

“I think I’ll head home, then.” chimes Mark.

He can see the exact moment Jaemin’s expression changes. His jaw tenses up and his hands drop to his sides, closing into fists. 

“I—I’ll just hang around here for a bit,”

“Why? Is your—“ Jaemin snaps his head up, glaring at Mark like he dares him to finish the sentence.

Mark doesn’t. He stays quiet and raises his eyebrows slightly. They stare at each other for a moment, shadows stretching with the sun. Mark finally nods, mutters in understanding and hesitates for one last second before hopping on his bike and pedaling away.

 — 

They aren’t friends. Not really.

Just two boys who have sparring sessions every now and then, and stargaze together even more often. 

They met in school, somewhere during the previous year. Jaemin had just moved into the city and it was his second week or so. Mark finds him in the courtyard, picking his second fight of the week with student council vice-president, Huang Renjun. He intervenes, and sets them apart.

Jaemin might not have known it then, but Mark had just saved him from the beating of his life. 

Later, Jaemin moans about it and yells at Mark to leave him alone.

Mark simply shrugs, because he _knows_.

He knows, and wants to help in any way he possibly can.

He knows, because Jaemin lives just across the street from him, and Mark sees it every time things get bad.

He sees it, when Jaemin’s father comes home a tad bit too drunk one evening. He also sees it when Jaemin shows up to school with a black eye the day after. Mark is there, that time when Jaemin’s father all but shoves him down the entryway stairs, then gets back inside the house and locks the door.

That day, they talk properly for the first time. Mark calls out to him from his bedroom window, and asks if he has a place to spend the night. 

_It’s fine_ , Jaemin says, _He’ll let me back in eventually_.

He doesn’t look too sure though, and Mark insists. Jaemin ends up sleeping on Mark’s bedroom’s floor, right next to his bed, and in the morning they don’t talk about it.

On another occasion, Mark recalls waking up in the middle of the night due to loud noises coming from the other side of the street. Something sounding like glass being smashed, over and over. So when Jaemin walks into class with bandages on both hands the next morning, Mark doesn’t bat an eye and starts taking notes for him.

To this day, he still doesn’t know what happened and doesn’t plan on asking.

It is then that things get a little more complicated. Jaemin starts getting into too many fights. In no time, he reaches the point of getting suspended nearly every week, and the school management isn’t having it. People start talking, and Mark hears about Jaemin risking being expelled. He understands something has to change, so he intervenes again.

The day Mark approaches Jaemin, the wind is blowing strong. That’s why Mark has to call his name twice before Jaemin finally hears it and turns around.

“What?” he spits out, not in the best of moods.

Mark swallows and reminds himself of why he’s doing that.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

Jaemin squints at him like he’s gone insane, but makes his way to stand in front of Mark nonetheless, motioning for him to speak.

“I just—“ he staggers, looking for words that’ll make him sound somewhat more reasonable “Let me make you a deal,”

“I don’t do drugs.” 

“What? No—That’s not what I—” Mark sighs “I just want you to stop picking fights.”

“Huh?” Jaemin looks startled “And how is that any of your business, anyway,”

Mark nearly rolls his eyes. The conversation had definitely seemed smoother in his head. “Look, I don’t want you to be expelled. And—“

Jaemin speaks over him before he’s finished. “Why do you care?”

“Goddamnit, Jaemin! Just _listen to me_ ,” Jaemin huffs and frowns at him. “You can’t get into any more fights, so—I’m telling you—take it out on me. Really. Whenever you feel like punching someone, come find me, and we’ll figure something out. I’ll even let you hit me,”

Now that everything is out in the open, Mark can’t help but cringe at how absolutely ridiculous he sounds. It’s a terrible idea. It’s a terrible idea and he knows it.

Jaemin says nothing. He just stands there, and Mark can almost see the engines turning in his brain.

“You’re serious.” he finally rasps.

“I am.”

“So, if I wanted to punch you, right here and right now, you’d let me?” Jaemin sounds intrigued, if not amused.

“Sure,”

Mark realizes now, he should have put a little more thought into it before actually making the offer, because the next thing Jaemin does is take a step back and then swing his fist all the way to Mark’s stomach. He doubles over and nearly falls to the ground, coughing violently while clutching his middle.

“Yeah, just—Uh, you know—give me a warning next time,” hisses Mark, still trying to catch his breath.

Jaemin chuckles down at him then turns around and walks away like all of that didn’t just happen. 

They’ve been like that ever since.

Jaemin never really mentions it—Mark is usually the one doing the talking—but both of them stick to the deal. Jaemin gradually stops fighting strangers and comes to Mark every time he feels somewhat stressed. He never hits hard though, or for long. No more than two punches or so at a time. He always holds back and Mark is aware of the fact, but keeps quiet.

They fall into a rhythm. Sparring every other day and bonding over the small things in between.

—

It’s a little past 6pm when something taps on Mark’s window. It’s Jaemin—who’s not very fond of using the front door—, but Mark knows that already. He slides the glass pane to the side and Jaemin drags himself in, one body part at a time. Looking past him, Mark can see Jaemin’s house across the street. The lights downstairs are on, which probably explains why Jaemin isn’t home himself. 

Then, they go up to the roof, trying hard not to slide on the tiles. 

Jaemin settles down on a flat spot of the structure in order not to fall off, and Mark sits next to him, still in silence. They face the opposite side of the street. Jaemin doesn’t say it, but he’d rather not think about his house, or his dad, if he can help it.

Mark could try asking about the rest of his family. He has, a couple times already, but it never works. He wondered about Jaemin’s mom out loud exactly three times. On the fourth time, Jaemin cut him off and threatened to jump off the roof if he didn’t stop. So Mark did, because he didn’t doubt Jaemin would have done it.

They mostly sit and hang out now. Watch the sunset, and watch as the stars start to show. They stay there for hours at times, just watching as the world turns while both of them stay put.

“What did you do today?” Mark tries, and it doesn’t really sound like a question. He can’t possibly know when Jaemin is willing to talk, but trying is the least he can do.

Jaemin hums, and it’s not really an answer, but it’s definitely something.

The sun starts to set. The sky painted in hues of orange and violet.

“Sorry for giving you a nosebleed,” Jaemin half-whispers, so low Mark almost misses it “I didn’t mean to,”

“It’s fine. It didn’t even hurt that much,” 

Mark has never been good at lying, so Jaemin laughs quietly.

“Are you gonna talk to the school counselor?” It’s a good day and Mark can’t waste the chances he gets.

“Yeah.” 

“Maybe they could help with—”

“Maybe.” Jaemin agrees quickly, and Mark drops the subject as usual.

It’s getting late, but Mark’s mom works long hours at the hospital and has already left a note saying she won’t be coming home tonight, so it’s fine. As for Jaemin’s father, well, he isn’t exactly the type to get worried.

Mark lays on his back with his hands clasped behind his head and Jaemin follows suit, leaning back on his elbows.

The sky hasn’t darkned completely yet, but a couple of stars can be seen already. From his position, Mark has the perfect view of the back of Jaemin’s head. His hair is dyed a soft pink now—in contrast to last month’s pitch black— and the wind makes the strands near his nape stand out. Mark likes it best when they spend time like this. It’s almost peaceful, not a single thing to worry about as long as they are up there. He also likes seeing this less wild side of Jaemin—the boy who talks softly and loves the night sky. The roof is their safe harbor. Well, when you feel like you could touch the stars if only your fingertips reached a little higher, it’s hard to think about anything else. 

Yeah, maybe things are different on the ground, and maybe Mark has a thing for lost causes, but they make it work.

“Hey,” the sound snaps Mark out of his thoughts.

Jaemin has turned around and is pretty much hovering over him, one hand placed next to Mark’s shoulder to support his own weight. Jaemin has this rather conflicted look in his eyes, like he’s trying to make a decision. Mark stills and waits, breath hitching in anticipation as he analyzes the other’s face.

Just like that, Jaemin leans down, the distance between them decreasing by the second, and kisses him. 

Mark’s eyelids flutter shut and his brain goes into overdrive. Jaemin’s lips feel soft against his and suddenly he fills up each and every one of Mark’s senses. His hair has a fruity scent to it and tickles Mark’s cheek as he angles his face to mold their mouths together. Jaemin brings his free hand to ghost over the other’s cheekbone and caresses it gently with his thumb. They pull away with a small peck and the realization sinks in.

Jaemin shoots him a shy half-smile and sits up again, facing the opposite way to gaze at the stars. Mark traces his own lips with his fingers, mesmerized, and his heart pounds on his ears, so loud he wonders if Jaemin hears it too. He waits for his thoughts to make sense again before straightening up to sit beside the younger. 

The sky expands before them, infinite. Millions of stars shining brightly and it feels like they’re the only ones watching, especially tonight. 

From afar, a dog barks and startles Jaemin, making him jump. Instinctively, Mark sticks his hand out and places it on top of Jaemin’s—an old habit that never really faded, of soothing people when they get scared. Jaemin looks down at the commotion and chuckles, then twists his own hand around and intertwines their fingers, squeezing slightly. 

Mark feels his cheeks burn with embarrassment and gets self conscious for about a second. He smiles to himself and squeezes Jaemin’s hand back. 

They aren’t friends. Not really. 

Just two boys who gravitate towards each other, either to blow off some steam, to talk about whatever or just to share kisses under the moonlight. 

**Author's Note:**

> i dedicate this to luiza, my absolute dearest friend :))) thank you for bearing with me even when i won’t shup up about things and thank you for supporting my shenanigans even though you and i both know i never finish writing my stuff.  
> thank u love u pls dont yell at me for this!!
> 
> and I’ll dedicate this to hillary too, the person who is always the first to read my stories because I usually show them to her As Im Writing Them. thank u for giving me feedback on things and thanks for listening to the way too short playlist i made for this story. lov u!!
> 
> if you’ve read until here, thank you so much! i hope you enjoyed it and please, if you can, leave a comment! it helps me improve and it makes me happy :))


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